James Ballantyne

Category: Emotions

  • Inner Butterfly

    Caterpillar in the tree
    How you wonder who you’ll be
    Can’t go far but you can always dream
    Wish you may and wish you might
    Don’t you worry, hold on tight
    I promise you there will come a day
    Butterfly fly away

    (Miley Cyrus)

    So often, the butterfly is a metaphor for change, as this song I really like describes. The change from caterpillar, to cocoon to butterfly is rich in symbolism, rich in mystery and describes, often perfectly, the necessity for acceptance of an ongoing death, an ongoing inner change, even if both the caterpillar and the emerged butterfly are still so fragile in the hierarchy of the animal pecking order. As a friend once said to me, what’s the point in doing all that healing work, only to be as fragile, vulnerable and prone to attack as a butterfly, even if you can fly and look astoundingly beautiful for the shortest of flight times?

    What if, instead of much change being required to embody the butterfly, that the butterfly was there all along? What if you already had that inner butterfly, that which moved in accordance with the air, that fragile, wispy-ness, of colour, that closed and opened at various speeds, an inner butterfly, less something that emerged, or that you turned into, but was there all along.

    Waiting to flutter, waiting to rise

    Waiting to be seen, waiting to astonish

    Waiting to be revealed, waiting to be freed

    Soul rising, soul living

    Feeling the wind, feeling the life through its wings

    Truly alive, love and wonder, desire and fire.

    What I didnt realise until this evening, that the word for Psyche in its original greek form, meant ‘the immortal wife of cupid…and represented as a beautiful woman with butterfly wings‘ (The full story of psyche and cupid is in this link)

    So, profoundly, Psyche, can be both translated as ‘Soul’ and also ‘Butterfly’ .

    And to one extent, therefore, this might mean, that you do not transfigure into your inner soul/butterfly….. you are born with it, it was given to you. Your inner butterfly has never not been there, and will never not be there. Its gentle, quiet, wing beats need stillness and space, and the various coverings over and around the soul walls to be gently, carefully, lovingly melted and removed, to allow your soul, your being, your inner butterfly to be free.

    Its path is cleared with softness, not with power tools that scare it.

    Your inner soul, your inner butterfly is the mystical Love, Being, God or consciousness that dwells within, always there, always, it is your full true self, eternal divine goodness, joy and beauty – fragile and majestic as the flight of the butterfly. Vibrant, Colour, Free.

    It is not to be changed into, but to have its flight path cleared of blockages, for the falsities to be removed, for it to be safe to fly.

    You will become……maybe you already are.

    Never a caterpillar deep inside, always a butterfly.

  • In the Nothing, There is Everything.

    In the Nothing, There is Everything.

    Over the last few years, one of the hobbies I have taken up since Covid has been bird watching, and generally enjoying nature more and more. But bird hides, these are fascinating places, and I have a few favourite ones. Yesterday I had a bit of a lucky day, seeing a hobby, greenshank, bittern and an osprey.

    ‘Theres nothing going on’ is so often a deliciously tempting phrase to set the tone in a bird hide, this translates to ‘Whilst there is a panorama of unpredictability of natural life outside, there isnt an unusual bird today to get excited about’ just the seemingly usual birds. In the tempting demand to make life consistently exciting and full, the chase can be on, to go to the places where the ‘interesting birds are.

    Modern life, and modern expressions of faith, often want to fill, rather than keep the empty spaces open, the gap, the pause. We’re frustrated when the ‘gap’ between trains is too long at the station, when theres a gap in the curtains, when there a gap in the TV schedule, church services full of activities in their 90 minutes. Silence feels uncomfortable. Yet…

    What would be music without its gaps?

    There is inside each of us, a sacred pause, a gap, a space. A place where thoughts are watched like birds in a bird hide, some stick around a bit, others fly past fleetingly, some hover, pounce and leave marks. Yet in that place of watching, there is a gap. A gap, like undrawn curtains where the light is. A gap like an artist sees between objects that give the objects their identity. Inside you and me, the sacred gap accompanies our every waking moment, waiting to be noticed, like the things of the thoughts themselves.

    And that sacred pause is where the power is, the joy is, a wonder, mystery, and where love is, its where our consciousness envelops the divine eternal oneness, its where no-thing exists and everything exists all at once.

    And it’s there all the time.

    Find life in no-thing. The Sacred Pause.

    Where – No – thing separates.

    Because it connects as one. Whole being.

    In the nothing there is everything.

  • You Can’t force your Jigsaw (But do open the box)

    You Can’t force your Jigsaw (But do open the box)

    Each of us has bits of us that we dont really like. Theres the bits of us that got damaged by our parents or family when we grew up, whether this was abuse, neglect, abandonment, the choices of our parents and the hurts of these. Theres the bits of us in school, the parts where we adapted, the parts of us that we’re wounded, hurt. Theres the parts of us that we’d rather not talk about in polite company, the parts of us that turned to sex or drugs or alcohol or something other to soothe the pain, or the parts of us that hid away, the parts of us that acted in fear, anxiety, acted in vengeance and transferred inner anger from parents or jobs, onto partners, children or pets. Theres the parts of us that made choices when in survival mode, choices to be busy, choices to give to others from neediness, choices to take advantage of others, choices not to view another persons dignity and humanity, only as a service t our own. Then theres choices and actions in denial, to run away from dealing with the pain, to avoid it, to hide it.

    We all have them.

    Your pain might feel huge. But you are definitely not alone.

    All making our heart, our mind, our bodies…feel not quite right, or very quite wrong, or just stuck, or weary…

    All with a root of shame, or guilt or anger.

    And we would rather not go there.

    Then theres that inner voice that accompanies them all.

    Shame, Loathing, Guilt, Perfectionism, Control, Fear… all protecting the parts, all making a good argument for ‘not going there’ .

    And so often the morality we encounter – the shame of what we encountered, or what we did, or what we didnt do, who we hurt… feels too much to accept, feels too much to be able to get real about.

    We’d rather hide than face the truth

    We’d rather mask and hide than go there.

    We’d rather continue on, with that ache inside, than give light and warmth to a state of being thats hurting ourselves and others, yet its doing exactly that, and we’re spinning out of control.

    ‘So often… Morality is the Enemy of Growth’ (John O Donohue)

    The moral obligation to look good

    The moral obligation to be strong

    The moral obligation to ‘battle’ through darkness (or sin)

    The moral obligation to not feel shame, is to not feel anything.

    Yet, as a result that ache and pain haunts like a shadow, becoming more and more entrenched when challenged.

    I know. I didnt want to go there. Trying to keep a status quo whilst dying inside and running away from the pain, and the shame of what I was doing to soothe it. Until I cracked between it all, and lost everything, and yet…. realised that when everything was lost, I found something much more precious… eventually.

    Because those parts of us we’d rather hide are like parts of a jigsaw, and along with our hearts, our minds and bodies, theres fragmentation and fracturing within, caused by all the damage, to us and by us.

    And jigsaws, especially those with brittle edge pieces dont fit or mould together with force. Like trying to get two cuttlefish pieces to interlock.

    Friend. It isnt an inner battle you have to win.

    Battles are for armies.

    It isnt a war on the inside between the parts, even if they are raging, and making a noise. Their voice is often so loud.

    Your wounded parts are part of you, but they aren’t you.

    You hold the blow torch.

    Your heart is the gas.

    Love is the flame.

    And your parts and their raw, pained, rugged edges, mould together not with force, but with love, love that powers, love that emirates, love that emerges from your heart….once you finally, surrender, accept and listen to its call. Love from within resolves fractures and pain. Its warmth that melts the edges and aligns them into your soul and heart, its love that unifies your fractures and fragments, Its love that brings wholeness.

    Being a friend to the parts of you, the shame of your past that you’d rather not admit to, is a path marked with the deepest, most passionate and erotic love you can imagine, making love to your inner parts, melting their pain away with tenderness that is possible, even if thats new.

    Pain leaves with tears, leaves in a warm car, on the road to your own soul, to be met with harmony and kindness.

    The darkness you’re doing a battle with, in that tough man masculine way, won’t leave until you and your armour back down, and instead surrender to heat, light and love, and yes, that means losing control.

    But right now your pieces feel all over the places and control is an illusion anyway, shards of temporary colour disconnected, carried in a box that doesn’t want to be opened.

    Dare you lovingly open the lid…. and may love guide you in the integration of your whole, melting, welding, searing and bringing you to a harmony within, harmony your soul is already grasping for in the moments of pain you’re trying to hide.

  • Bestowing Your Gift Softly.

    Bestowing Your Gift Softly.

    One of the treasures within each and every one of us is our hearts. You have one, as do I, and yet so often in our day to day lives our hearts, and the desires of them play a silent role in our lives. Advertisers appeal to our minds, our desires , our discontent and our wallets, our thinking is so honed and shaped that its the reason behind entire education systems, create knowledge, and experiences, so that you can work. Religion is not far different, belief is highly attuned to ‘thought’ and less about feeling (in some places feelings are derided or discarded within religion, for the sake of holding beliefs that are about facts) and I’m not deriding the pursuit of depth of knowledge or curiosity – our minds are important…but they are not everything.

    But our minds can only do so much, even if our thinking wants to convince us that it can do everything – thats often the role we have given it, thats more our ego than our whole. But our mind knows things, it knows experiences, it knows, it calculates, it thinks, constantly, and that constant thinking, is often why the heart seems to be silent. Yet a life without heart, is a life on the move, an life on constancy, a life reacting to the speed of thought, where each curiously results in action, where layers of life build on each other.

    One of the treasures is our hearts. It is where there is pure love, where there are feelings of anger, desire, passion, love, and where the channel opens to the soul , a place that can’t be thought into, it can only be felt, and have soft loving hands open the doorway, to a space of consciousness beyond, a place where there is harmony, security and the soft stillness of the inner love voice.

    Where your heart is there will be your treasure. Your life is ‘wholer’ when you can feel, and be grateful for being able to and safe to (Michael Singer, Living Untethered) and yet so often we live a life afraid of, in denial of, or ashamed of feelings, and the experiences in our lives that caused them. Spirituality is the task of loving softness on the parts we’d rather hide. ‘Morality is often the enemy of growth’ writes John O Donohue ( Anam Cara) Morality is thoughts and shame put together, often in institutional cultures and behaviours. Spiritual growth requires deep inner love, requires hearts, requires anger, requires the softness of the love that comes from the depth and mystery of our heart itself.

    A heart that holds when life around us breaks into a million pieces. A heart that heals with tears. A heart that responds inside with softness. A heart that loves the world with bliss and connection. A heart that rests and the moment at the end of each breath. A heart that tells you ‘ I love you’, ‘Im proud of you’ , even if your thinking wants to tell you otherwise. Your heart will always be on your side. Your thinking has so often been placed there from other sources.

    And when you find your heart, your life will shine with beauty.

    And when you find the gift of your heart, it was your heart that found itself all alone. For it is love that carries you in love all along, to find that love that hides under that shadows of shame and pain, and guilt and perfection, until its gift is accepted, and its gentle hands are held, walking hand in hand in love.

    Part of the beauty of the act of discovery is the integrity of its desire for wholeness. Your soul will not want to avoid of neglect the regions of your heart that do not fit the expected. When you trust yourself enough to discover and integrate your strangeness, you bestow a gift to yourself.

    Rather than annulling a complex part of your heart which would continue to haunt you, you have thrown your arms around yourself to embrace who you are’

    (John O Donohue, Divine Beauty)

  • The Lie we’re conditioned to believe.

    I will be ok. 

    Thats the lie. Right there. 

    Actually not quite. 

    Because thinking about it, ‘I will be ok’ was always true, as im still here now, and ‘I will be ok’ was what I used to say to myself a lot, when going through the bewilderment of emotional abuse and manipulation in childhood and in a long term marriage. When things got tough, or weird or both, and much was just what I had been used to since birth; ‘I will be ok’ would be what I said to myself. 

    And because im here writing this, I guess that isnt the liee then. That was grit and determination rearing its strengthening head. 

    The lie was this. 

    ‘I will be ok….if’ 

    ‘If’ that tiny little word. 

    ‘If’ could also appear at the end of the phrase

    ‘They might like me .. IF’ 

    or

    ‘They might be proud of me … ‘IF’ 

    or 

    ‘Things might be ok…’if’’

    But lets get back to the first one

    ‘I will be ok….if’ 

    Conditional Okay-ness. 

    Because thats what it is. Ultimately. It’s about having a self belief that is only satisfied when certain conditions happen. Conditional self- worth, self -respect, self-regard. 

    ‘I will be ok….. if im a little bit fitter’ 

    ‘I will be happy … if I write a piece that goes viral’ 

    ‘I will be happy…. on a sunny day’ 

    ‘I will be ok… if ‘they’ treat me ok’ 

    ‘I will be ok….. if _______ happens’ 

    ‘I will be ok… if get to put in my meditation, breathing, bath, journal, cook nice food, give myself some me time, breathe again, watch the roses grow and do yoga..twice… then ill be ok’ 

    ‘I will be ok……if’ 

    Because it’s a lie. 

    In his book ‘Living untethered’ (and also The Untethered Soul) Micheal Singer writes about how much of our lives are spend trying to avoid, navigate, deny or skirt around pain and challenges in our lives, so much that they dominate. So much so that we create a type of living in which the pain, the abuse, the darkness holds us in captive, and so we instead (I instead) would tell myself these little lies, the lies of conditional okayness. 

    Because I wasnt ok, I hoped and tried to will myself to be, but without facing the real pain, the real issues inside. I was temporarily ok….if my football team won, if I managed to get a good grade in an essay, if I could ride my bike…if , if, if, if… 

    I needed something to happen for me to have temporary ok-ness. 

    I needed something to cause me to feel a tiny bit ok. 

    I was requiring something other, to soothe… something inner. 

    I was needing ‘the world’ to fix/solve/soothe what was on the inside… without facing or dealing with the real issue. It was avoidant, I was avoidant, and yet ‘I will be ok..if’ is all around and so it was easy to go along with it… even if I was dying on the inside. 

    Because. If was depending on something to make me feel ok. Then I wasnt ok. 

    I was just in a cycle of it. 

    Being ok, needn’t be conditional. 

    It took me a very long while, at least 5 years of facing the stuff, journaling, listening to my emotions, giving myself time, safety, therapy, using the tools and having better self care routines, that helped me be in a better place. A place where I could trust myself a bit, a place where I was more aware of my sensitive nature, and awareness of the damage that had been done to me. (for more of this read my story here) . Yet, I was still trying to believe that I was ok. Yes I could relax, yes I was safe, but so much deep down, inside I was , and especially when I hit some low points, I would collapse and breakdown, which I did in 2023. 

    I knew I didnt believe in myself because the very thing that I needed, was the thing I criticised. Positive psychology. Thinking positively. Self affirmations.. yuk no no no. I can’t do that…it’s so Ammmerrican. It’s false, it’s ugh, no. 

    But I realised that my inner critic voice was still running the roost. Even with a lot of change. I still had ‘needs’ and ‘needed things’ to be ok. 

    I didn’t believe I was ok, not unconditionally ok. Self belief hung on a fragile string. 

    That little lie ‘ I will be ok…if……I change my job…if I write something…if I …..’ 

    And whilst im at it, ill not dwell on this here, but I might well have been told that ‘God loved me’ – but since that was also the belief of my abusive parent, and also church was a place I needed to belong, to be important, to be busy, to be intelligent, to know (and not feel) – two theology degrees later and a 22 year career working in faith groups in the UK… Unconditional Gods love, was lost in a kernel of conditional institutional performance and responsibility. It wasnt Gods fault. But too much pain and damage surrounded this heart, and so unconditional love or even unconditional ‘ok-ness’ was off the table. 

    So, it was easy to believe the lie. 

    I wasnt ok, and I was stuck in a cycle of believing that I would be one day ok…if…

    What I had to do was face the reality of myself, and my hurts, pains, defence mechanisms, sand strategies…and dig right deep, into the places of self loathing, self mistrust, self destruction… and find myself stronger, more loving, and more compassionate than all of them. 

    To start to rebuild a self that had been broken and tormented since birth. 

    To realise that ‘ I will be ok.. If’ 

    Was actually a lie. 

    Because the truth is something else. 

    The truth is not that I am ok. 

    The truth is that I just am. 

    Regardless of what happens. I still am. 

    Regardless of what I do… I am

    And in me there is love, and joy, and calm, and truth… 

    The funny thing is, in the last year or so I notice myself saying things like ‘I need ______’ or ‘if I buy _______ ill be ok’ – its almost as if its an unusual thing, to notice, to realise and then I check in with myself. 

    I dont need to believe that I am conditionally ok. 

    And neither do you. 

    But it’s a lie we’ve been often told to believe. 

    Because it keeps us trapped.

  • Crossing the Rainbow bridge.

    Crossing the Rainbow bridge

    Where love holds as we get to the edge

    Love awaits on the crossing

    Love walks over

    Love guides

    Love that got me there, waiting to cross

    Love that got me there,  path out of view

    Love that held me, walking wounded, trapped on the island

    Path shrouded, destiny dimmed

    Love that wrestled me into hope

    Love that burned faintly on the inside

    Despair and resilience poured into grit.

    Walking fearful, walking lost

    Walking wounded, walking confused

    Walking weighted, walking hunched

    Love builds bridges like rainbows

    To a life unseen in the cloud of foggy darkness

    That got me to the edge

    To see, a step on an unknown path

    Where Love from the deep wash calling all along

    Presence of love, mysteriously aloof..but there.

    All. Along.

    Love like rainbows, over an arched bridge.

    Colours of healing, awakened in love

    Red , for desire, anger and pain

    Orange , for freshness, new life

    Green for the shoots of emerging free

    Blue for the calm, peace, or the sea

    Purple and violet, for Love is just deep, and beyond, an invitation to find, indescribable, eternal magical complexity, of purple.

    They’re all of you, all of love, all on the bridge

    All on a rainbow

    For you, of you and with you

    One, slow, eye opening, heart opening, accepting step at a time

    The language of soul, calling to your heart tune.

    Loves all fears to the ground

    Frees us into a new being

    United, cleansed, together on the inside,

    Radiant on the out.

    From death into life.

    Each step along the rainbow bridge

    Journeying with love

    Water underneath, water in the air

    Life sources rippling all around

    Love carrying, holding,

    Life showing itself

    Steps of longing

    The invitation of belonging

    You are held, transforming

    Fly from the bridge

    Fly beyond

    May your feet dance on the bridge and never look back

    Lightness awaits

    Created by love

    It’s your time, to dream and become

    Glow radiant, in light, in loves colour grow

    Make love to the universe

    Passion and grace,

    A new world is yours now

    And love is your song.

  • You are Held

    You are held.

    Deeply, lovingly held

    Tenderly held by the threads of divine love.

    Wrapped in the colours of universe delight,

    Embraced by loves pure longing,

    Carried within the heart of the earth.

    Touched with beauty,

    Aroused with hunger,

    Your soul lit with wonder.

    Graced from the glow of desire.

    You are held,

    You are cherished,

    You are deeply one.

    Divine soul, filled with whole love.

    Held in the universe embrace.

  • You are never not home.

    Regardless of how you have been damaged, there is within you a sanctuary of deep love, trust and belonging.

    (John O Donohue)

    Home is where the heart is….and

    So maybe this is literally true.

    Home is inside you all along,

    where your heart is.

    On the inside, in the inside.

    That inner sanctuary, That inner place

    Soul, Heart, Consciousness, Seed

    That place where you come to rest

    The thing that damage wants to distract you from

    The thing that distraction wants to distract you from

    The place where thoughts never want you to go

    The place beyond the ego, ego graveyard if you will

    You are Home.

    Home is in you

    Home is You

    Everything else is the dream

    Everything else is a unachievable search

    The Shell, the outer, eyes of desire, reaching for the impossible, reaching away from the place of home,

    Where true security awaits, beyond the pain

    Not as far away as you’ve been led to believe

    Not as long as a journey

    You are Home already

    Inside is not Sin or Shame, or Grief or Pain

    These lies cause years of wondering, fearing, wrestling

    Inside there is Love, Trust, Belonging

    Inside you there is home, sacred Home

    Where stillness is the language

    Where its music is power

    Where breath lives like wings of Angels

    Where creativity and desire infuse

    Where time is measured by heart beat

    You are Home

    You are Love

    No buts, no ‘ifs’,

    You have not been that damaged, or broken or hurt

    They pave the way.

    To the door of Home.

    Listen beyond

    To beyond

    Trust that trust is there all along

    Love was always too

    And inside your soul

    is where you truly belong.

  • How Journalling has helped me (and why I found it difficult to start)

    How Journalling has helped me (and why I found it difficult to start)

    I had the weird moment a few weeks ago when I was standing in the well known outlet store ‘TK Maxx’ in the stationary and journal section, where I was joined by….another man in the aisle, looking for a new suitable journal. It was a rare experience. I have never encountered another man in the journal section of either TK Maxx, Waterstones or WHSmith. The lesser spotted male journaller.

    In amongst the array of pink, peach, ‘self care for you’ , ‘be your better self’ journals, that were mainly targeting the female journaller, in conversation we realised we were both looking for something very similar. A plain looking, plain inside journal. No ‘Year planner’ no ‘Goal setting’ no ‘write your dreams for 2026’ – just plain, so that we could write, and write without prompting.

    Oh it wasnt allowed to be pink. Sorry. Just plain. A blue, green, black or purple.

    I didnt feel like asking this random stranger male what he journaled, or what he wrote, we just looked for a while trying to find what we were both looking for.

    Given that its incredibly important that we men have healthy avenues to try and describe, write and formulate our thoughts and feelings – that it seems that its a market more targeted to women, is another tiny obstacle men face when beginning the inner journey. (dont mishear, this is not an excuse..just an observation)

    So, I journal. And I realise that over my lifetime I have written down my thoughts in different ways.

    Firstly, given that bedrooms weren’t safe, there was no way I could write about what was going on at home as a child, nor leave it in a place. Some of my girl friends (friends who were girls) wrote diaries, as did the girls in TV shows, but rarely did boys. The times that I did I kept everything factual and boring, like the weather that day, school homework and probably football scores. Thats all that was safe to be left in my childhood bedroom.

    Between then and 5-6 years ago I would write thoughts and ideas down, usually stemming from what I had read in the Bible, talks or conferences, training notes or my academic notes or ideas for essays. Rarely entering the world of my feelings, or heart – just ideas, thoughts, concepts.

    I probably baulked at the idea of doing journaling back 6 years ago. It seems like a ‘girly’ thing to do. But that I know now was my reactions to it, because it wasnt a safe thing to do in the recent or long term past. But now, I had my own flat, my own space, and I was learning to realise that i was safe to write, safe to express myself and safe to put anything I want down on paper and in any shape or form. Even if at times this had to be fought against the inner voices that were inhibiting it at times.

    I would say that I have used writing in four main ways in the last 5 years, the private stuff, not what I write here.

    1. Free writing – This can take the form of wax crayons, colours and plain paper, closing my eyes and just scribbling, and writing anything on the page depending on the feeling that wants to come out, anger, rage, frustration, hurt, pain, and it can be anything, swear words, scrawl – anything at all – sometimes its a fight to come out but I just sit there and let it, however much thought resistance there might be.
    2. Therapy homework and dreams – After one particular time of therapy I was introduced to inner child writing, and so, i have a journal in which i have an ongoing inner dialogue with my ‘self’ or my feelings, my childhood ego state, and listen, love and care for it. I do this one more often when feeling anxious, depressed, or fearful – but also, when calm too, as it’s a good way of assessing my inner feeling temperature. I followed the ‘discovery of your inner child’ book by Lucio Cappacione for a very long while. I needed to do..not just understand.
    3. Dreams. I write them down. So that I notice what my subconscious is having a play around with during my sleep.
    4. Raging words and trying to understand things. One of my journals was about trying to understand things, trying to write out the questions, the reasons, the hurt and pain of what I suffered.
    5. My Affirmation journal. I began this in 2023 (Here is the story), and continued it each day (give or take a few) , in which I write to myself affirmations, no negatives, no questions, just positive affirmations, as if the universe and its angels were looking at me with delight and then telling me, or as if I as a friend to myself was telling me my truth. Who I am. This has been utterly transformative, not using the language of lies and limitations to shape my inner voice or self any more. To re – orientate my inner critic into something small, and let me heart and soul speak into my life.
    6. The blank one. There always a blank journal on the go, for anything else, just to grab it and write something, a sentence, a phrase, a line from a book, a meme. It’s a bit like the journal equivalent of saving screen shots from healing memes on fb, that also include stuff from books too. Sometimes words just find me, and so I let them arrive and put them down, sometimes these become titles for blogs too. Oh and more recently writing poetry has begun from this.

    For most of these I use coloured pens, to express myself inwardly, and also because blue and black are too close to official colours of study or work. My inner life deserves purples, pinks, greens and yellows, and feelings often emerge in colour.

    I have used writing in a number of ways to listen, and speak from my pain and trauma, from my heart and to my wounded parts, and as the process has continued I have developed different strategies as different aspects have required attention.

    I definitely didnt start this process thinking ‘I am going to journal’ though maybe it was likely given my blogging history and love of writing academically, that writing was going to be one way that was going to be a very useful tool for my healing processing and journey. I did find it painful to start, to force myself to write deep things, as I had spent so long writing thoughts and ideas and my inner heart and feelings were so locked, shamed and hidden away. It was always going to take time, and the guidance of psychological professionals to help me unlock and unblock.

    Sometimes it’s a quick grab of the paper and write down something, sometimes I realise that ive been fighting myself for hours and I just needed to sit, and write and listen and respond. It doesn’t matter, it’s just day by day doing the work, rebuilding, noticing, revealing and loving my self through its own expressions.

    This has been, so far my journey of journalling, what about you? Id love to hear in the comments below your hints and tips for journalling and how it has been part of your healing journey through whatever the situation has been for you.

  • Keeping it real, some days are like treacle.

    I had one of ‘those’ kinds of days today. The kind of days I used to have a lot of, and the kind of days I never used to notice.

    Today I had one of those days when I just felt a bit ‘meh’ a bit ‘unsettled’ a bit ‘I had expectations to try and do a bit of writing and creative thinking and it didnt quite happen and so I was a bit frustrated’ days.. and then I got frustrated, because I was frustrated….

    I sometimes call them ‘treacle days’ – just a bit stodgy, for no real reason, when nothing happens, just that there’s an inner fight.

    But I realise, that I dont get them very often. Which is a nice thing to be reminded of..and thats why they’re unusual and help me stay a little in check, a little moment to remember my vulnerable new humanness with all its emotions having space to play.

    But the reason I get them at all, is that I realise that I am in a good place generally, and that not quite every day can feel calm, can feel easy – especially creatively easy, not every day feels like flow. But thats the thing. Its because I now I feel more feelings, that I can sense that there’s something not quite right.

    It may be absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things, not a big problem, but thats not what my inner critic wants to hear…… and when it starts to latch onto the tiniest of anxieties, or self doubts, or moments…

    The everyday ‘recovery’ from childhood trauma, and the associated behaviours, continues to be a daily, ongoing piece by piece listening, attending and loving these wounded parts, even if they might just be a bit of frustration……unsettled……

    And so, in a way I realise that I am grateful for the treacle days or treacles moments, because its a part of me thats alive, its apart of me thats allowed and safe to be wanting to tell me something, or do something.

    What I used to have was continual un-dealt with bottled up emotions so that every day was painted in survival stony grey. No treacle days as there was no contrast, just stoic grey, avoidance and dissociation and self soothing one day to the next.

    And back today, what I stopped myself from doing, which I have done in the past is attach the frustration with negative self shame talk like this:

    ‘Ive done all this therapy and healing, I shouldn’t feel like this’

    but thats not the reality is it. Most days are good, most days I feel alive, whole and in the main secure.

    But there are treacle days. Even, actually especially in the process of learning to be our loving whole selves….

    And treacle days or hours that require a little attention, a little love, and little bit of gratefulness, for the feelings, and thoughts themselves.

    So , instead of continuing the inner self fight, I moved, I went out, and I took myself off out for a walk instead, breathed windy air and sunshine, watched ospreys land, and watched as the lizards moved around my feet.